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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808021">The Toys the Gods Give Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000'>Whoareyou0000</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adam Young Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Adam Young Still Has Powers (Good Omens), Ancient Egypt, Angels are Terrifying (Good Omens), Antichrist Adam Young (Good Omens), Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Flaming Sword (Good Omens), BAMF Adam Young (Good Omens), British Museum, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demons Are Assholes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort With Plot, Ineffable Event (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), World War II, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:47:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a sword. </p><p>A flaming, blessed sword that made Crowley <i>feel</i> things for the naïve, glowy angelic being who happened to give said sword away despite the dangers that so clearly posed. </p><p>It all started with a promise to keep said angel safe from the feathery knobheads who might take offense to his alternative ways of being. A promise fulfilled throughout the centuries all the way up to Armageddon itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Toys the Gods Give Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with a sword. </p><p>A flaming, blessed sword that made Crowley <i>feel</i> things for the naïve, glowy angelic being who happened to give said sword away despite the dangers that so clearly posed. Those same fluffy knobheads who launched Crowley from the heavens over a bloody question couldn’t be chuffed about one of their own being quite so careless with the company property. </p><p>He’d done it all for a couple of humans who’d betray him for a bloody piece of fruit. </p><p>“What do you suppose your downy brethren will do if they find out you <i>gave away your sword?”</i></p><p>Aziraphale shivered, releasing a strangled whine. “Oh, nothing pleasant I’m afraid. I might say it would be rather objectionable. There could be <i>lectures,</i> years of monotone voices and not even the luxury of refreshments. Possibly a bit of feather plucking as well, to keep me grounded for a few decades and force me to ponder what I’ve done.” </p><p><i>“Feather plucking?”</i> Crowley twisted his lips and stared off at the little specs of human traversing the dessert together. “Who do those winged arseholes study under, Satan him-bloody-self?” Aziraphale strategically avoided his eyes, focusing on the far-off flame. “Suppose you do something <i>unpleasant</i> back to ‘em then, a bit of an eye for an eye? It’s meant to be in Her guidebook, I hear.” </p><p>Aziraphale gapes, his wide blue eyes shining. “Oh no, no no no. I’m afraid revenge is not in my nature. If I am to be punished, well then I must deserve it.” </p><p>Crowley sputtered. Angels and their self-flagellation. </p><p>“Well that’s as much bollocks as I’ve ever heard. Deserve to be plucked like a bloody chicken because you did a good deed? Hardly.” Silence settled as the flaming sword defeated a charging lion. Crowley cocked his head, considering. “Suppose I could help out. <i>My</i> nature entirely consists of revenge. Barbequing was my specialty down under but plucking goes hand in hand.” </p><p>“Oh, you mustn’t.” Aziraphale met his eyes sternly, his cherry lips parted. “A demon taking on archangels? It’d bring all sorts of trouble upon you. No, it’s not worth it.”</p><p>Crowley studied his new friend carefully, taking in every crease in his face likely put there by those above. The <i>pureness</i> radiating off the man was more than enough to convince the demon of what he must do. </p><p>“Right, well I’ll decide what’s worth it to me, Angel.” </p><p>Then came the rain, inconvenient that, and the shelter of a white wing to keep him dry.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>……..</p>
</div>The thief’s joints cracked within the serpent’s tightening grip. It flexed its muscles, felt the goopy bits shift within the body embraced, and then took in the flowing, moaning, tearful release as the panicked man dropped the coin purse. Objective reached, the snake immediately unwound, watching the stunned thief gather himself and then scramble through the alleyway and down the dessert’s dirt path.<p>Pieces sorted themselves until Crowley once again possessed opposable thumbs and then he nabbed the small, leather pouch before another bandit could take aim. Whistling a jaunty tune, he made his way back onto the main road, parting the gathering crowd until he caught up to the retreating angel. </p><p>“Seems you’ve misplaced your purse, Angel.” Crowley nudged the pouch into his chest. “Must be more careful.” Aziraphale reflexively wrapped his arms around the intrusion, frowning when he recognized the dusty pouch. He peered up from beneath his long, white curls, good-humored eyes the color of the sky itself, and crinkled his nose.</p><p>“I did not misplace it, Crowley. That young man needed it more than I.” </p><p>The angel did return the bag to his belt, though, and walked. The demon grinned proudly and happily followed.</p><p>“Psh, not likely. Saw ‘im nick it from your hip.” Crowley retorted, straightening his linen toga, the black standing out amongst all the white on the street, and pulling on the loincloth beneath. “Whichever of them thought of these genital sacks should be smite. Tugs too much on the dangly bits.” </p><p>Aziraphale cast a brief glance at Crowley’s awkward ministrations and quirked his lips just enough and to warm the demon’s cheeks beneath his chin-length, dark braids. </p><p>“The wig suits you.” Crowley stammered at the compliment and found the sand of interest. They rounded a corner and narrowly avoided a kerfuffle between two shopkeepers. Crowley skirted to Aziraphale’s left, slowly herding him to the safety of the wall. Aziraphale threw him a curious glance and brushed some dust from his own shoulder before walking on. “A thief is merely a man in need. One wouldn’t take such a desperate action if not desperate.”</p><p>Crowley leaned into that opening, sniffing at the man who reeked of desperation and the usual sweetness that accompanied his presence. “Speaking of desperate, what <i>are</i> you doing in these parts? You’re much too attached to Alexandria and its comforts to venture out this far.” </p><p>Aziraphale squared his jaw in his signature stubbornness. “Yes well, there is a certain temple under construction. Artifacts had, seemingly, been discovered.”</p><p>They rounded the next crumbly stone corner just as two children sprinted through, forcing them apart briefly and eliciting a stern growl from the demon. The misty, humid bank of the Nile appeared in the distance, beckoning them closer. </p><p>“Ah, artifacts like your sword? Honestly, Angel, have you not given up on that quest?” </p><p>The scent of cinnamon overwhelmed from a passing cart. Aziraphale stopped and scrunched his nose in delight. Crowley made for the nibbles only to turn back and see Aziraphale frowning and continuing on instead. He caught up in time for the explanation.</p><p>“At some point Heaven’ll find out that I’m without my assigned weapon. I’d much prefer to have it in my possession before that time comes.” </p><p>“You’ve found it, then?” Crowley raked his eyes around Aziraphale’s curvy form, well suited for the cottony frock, in search of said flaming weapon. “Where is it?” </p><p>At the river’s edge, Aziraphale stopped. He gave a heavy sigh and refused to meet the concerned pair of snake eyes. </p><p>“Unfortunately, the rumors did not prove true.” </p><p>Crowley claimed his space beside the angel and joined him in staring forlornly at the impressive current. </p><p>“Alright, so you’ll find it on the next go-round. Until then, you’ve me to call on if the matter gets…desperate.”  </p><p>They pivoted until they faced each other, Aziraphale’s muscles tense in strong consideration. He traced Crowley’s curves and angles deliberately and hungrily with his eyes before choosing careful words.</p><p>“You did not need to step in, Crowley.” The upturn of his lips told the demon otherwise, of course. “I am an angel. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself from a thief.” </p><p>The river roared in the background. Crowley snorted. “Right, you’d sooner discorporate than give a human a tingle.” </p><p>“Oh, and I should squeeze the very breath from them for feeding their families?” They returned their attention to the Nile, a body not prone to being ignored for long. “You do know you’re responsible for their misbehaviors? Punishing them for your doing seems…unfair.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s lower lip bulged out like that of a petulant child and Crowley inched sideways until their shoulders amicably touched. </p><p>“I simply tempt, Angel. The rest is up to them. Besides, it’s Her who punishes the humans, and you angels, is it not? Don’t see how any of it is bloody fair. Best we can hope for is a fit body, a bit of free will, and nice cuppa and a cake now and again.” </p><p>That caused Aziraphale’s shoulders to drop. His face lightened to Crowley’s pleasure. </p><p>“Oh, I could do with a slice of basbousa.” The angel turned to the demon and pursed his lips rather adorably. “Care to join, <i>foul fiend?”</i></p><p>Crowley swallowed a stupid smile, taming it to a teasing smirk. The same thief scuttled past, kicking up dust. A pudgy, red-faced shopkeeper followed close behind, obscenities bubbling out along with some spittle. </p><p>“You do owe me a reward, Angel.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>……..</p>
</div>Frazzled, fluffy-haired women trampled down the ship’s gangway, their nightgowns billowing in the wintry wind as they roughly knocked the demon’s shoulders. He hardly moved from his perch, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat. The men followed dutifully at their wives’ elbows, dapper in their suits and tiny bowties that came slightly loose in the commotion. All screamed, leaving an unpleasant ringing in the demon’s ears.<p>They hardly posed a concern to Crowley, though. His eyes remained pinned on the angel at the far end of the tilty boat. He perched upon a fancy wooden bench, all fidgety-like and twiddling his thumbs as he usually did when the server took too long to bring his tea. The white suit fit his curves well, though his slicked back hair made Crowley miss the curls. That’s neither here nor there, however, in their current predicament. </p><p>Crowley climbed the remaining steps to the increasingly uphill stern and lowered himself beside his dear friend. He peered briefly over the railing and pointed at nothing that interested the angel. </p><p>“Awfully frosty down below. There’s even some icy bits there, you see?” </p><p>Aziraphale gulped audibly, chewing on his lower lip. “Yes well, what’s a chill to a life-long Brit? Poppy cock, that’s what.” The violins started then, playing a pleasant medley that brought the slightest, worried smile to Aziraphale’s pale face. “We’ve even music to swim to. See? Twill be a pleasant evening at that.”</p><p>Crowley sighed and adjusted his glasses again as the boat tilted a bit more, knocking their bodies together towards the bench’s end. He allowed his finger to lightly brush Aziraphale’s thigh in comfort. The angel leaned into the touch. </p><p>“Gave away your life jacket, did you? Your spot on the raft as well?” </p><p>He faced Aziraphale in time to see those plump lips fall into resignation. His blue eyes darkened when a peasant boy passed, his face a slurry of tears and spit. </p><p>“Yes, well, I am a skilled swimmer after that summer in Wales. The young lady was with child. She required assistance.” </p><p>The boat whined. The violinist hit a wrong note, causing Crowley to sneer at nothing in particular. A young couple jumped overboard, their hands entwined. The forlorn stare on the angel’s face made Crowley want to snap all of it into oblivion. </p><p>“Right. This has all become rather bleak, even for me. Don’t suppose you could miracle us out of here, then?”</p><p>Aziraphale met his gaze briefly, those blue eyes swimming. “I’m afraid I’ve been placed on suspension. Too many frivolous miracles, Gabriel decided. Apparently, that ill child last month was the final straw. If I disobey again, I'll be asked to turn in my sword.” </p><p>The consequences of that punishment needn't be said.</p><p>“Those bastards.” The mention of that winged arse made Crowley see red. He choked it down as best he could, more pressing matters at hand and all, and took Aziraphale’s hands. “Come along then, no sense in delaying the inevitable.” </p><p>At once they both donned new life jackets, Crowley never one to skimp on safety when it came to the angel. Aziraphale gifted a shaky smile as Crowley led him to the railing. They stared down at the churning black abyss together. Dots of white speckled the horizon, lifeboats already escaping. Aziraphale gasped and gripped Crowley’s hand tightly. </p><p>Crowley pointed once again, this time to something of interest. </p><p>At the bottom and a safe distance away awaited a luxurious lifeboat that only the supernatural beings could see, red in color and already containing a pile of clothing, a thermos of warm tea, and a spare pair of sunglasses, just in case. </p><p>“Well, that’s quite useful.” Aziraphale straightened up and faced Crowley with determination. Then he expanded his wings, Crowley following suit. “Up we go then.” </p><p>They flew to their little boat, Crowley leading the way, and, at the angel’s insistence, invited as many survivors inside as they could to enjoy a spot of tea and a scone while waiting for the rescue boats to arrive.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>……..</p>
</div>The sky lit up in a near-blinding white followed by a red so rich that it riveled the demon’s wayward hair. The weapon expanded across the desert’s horizon, turning the sand and cacti a magnificent orange, and then retracted to form the shape of a white, fluffy fungi in the shattered atmosphere. The boom came moments later, shaking the very ground beneath Crowley’s shiny snakeskin boots and causing his bones to shutter together.<p>Even from a safe distance, the explosion made his hair stand on end. He would have draped himself in the loneliness of that moment if not for the familiar, comforting energy approaching from behind.</p><p>“Hello, Crowley.” Aziraphale slipped perfectly into the space beside the demon, his face pale and tense. His hair, wavy and short, collected the sand in the air around them. “Tell me this wasn’t you.” </p><p>“Not me, angel. All them.” Crowley removed his sunglasses, stiffy rubbing the sand from the lenses with his black t-shirt. “Even Hell didn’t vote for this one. No sense in taking over a world that looks exactly like our corner of the cellar.” </p><p>“Oh, good.” He gifted a small, relieved smile that warmed Crowley’s cheeks. “I knew you’d never.” The angel relaxed a bit, letting out a heavy sigh and tugging the edges of his trench coat. “I did try to stop them. Did all that I could without violating their free will.” </p><p>The cloud continued to expand slowly. It could almost be called stunning, if not for the consequences of its existence.</p><p>“Bloody dangerous thing in the wrong hands, free will.” Crowley slipped his glasses into his jacket pocket and took in the holy being with a face so puckered with guilt that he could hardly stomach it. He imagined that not even those majestic wings could lift the angel from the heaviness. “You did your best, Angel. No need to blame yourself.” </p><p>“You don’t think…” He faced the demon, suddenly breathless. “Well, my sword? Could all of this have come from…well <i>that?</i>” </p><p>Crowley took in an angel so shriveled and defeated and felt his evil heart tighten uncomfortably. He ventured a step closer, daring to still those shaky hands in his larger ones.</p><p>“You did a good thing giving your sword away. They’d never have survived their journey without your help. That means no Bach, no crepes, no Starry Night, no alcohol, no stories packed between two covers to fill your shelves. Sure, maybe some of ‘em went bad, t’was bound to happen with me in charge, but <i>you</i> did good.” </p><p>Aziraphale exhaled, the tension leaving his body, and his shimmering eyes gave a silent thank you. Then he gave Crowley’s hands a quickly squeeze before gently placing them back at the demon’s belly and turning towards the destruction. </p><p>“I’m afraid they may not see it that way.” Aziraphale fixated on the cloud, now frozen in air like a snapshot. “I’ve been called to Heaven to face judgement.” </p><p>Crowley’s hackles rose. He turned his face to the sky and suppressed the urge to snarl at those who hid behind the clouds, blaming the ones on the frontlines when they couldn’t be arsed to even pay a visit to the warzone themselves. </p><p>“Fuck ‘em. Don’t go. We’ll run off somewhere they can’t reach. Hear Alpha Centauri’s nice.” </p><p>The angel ignored his violent, desperate tone, however, and presumed to combat his theatrics with <i>logic.</i> </p><p>“Running will only make them…angry. If I’ve truly done nothing wrong, then I’ve nothing to fear.” </p><p>Crowley swallowed, fighting the urge to miracle them away right then to avoid the whole mess. Aziraphale’s stubborn, hardened posture told him he’d never stay around, though. Better to be here, he thought, when the angel returned. </p><p>“Right then, blame it on me. The bomb, the sword, the whole kerfuffle.” </p><p>Aziraphale gaped, his eyes wide and shining in the leftover light of the atomic energy. “No, Crowley. I could never!” </p><p>“Why bloody not?” He carefully removed the angel’s fingers from his frayed hem and forced their eyes to meet. “It’s my job to thwart you, isn’t it? Suppose I won a round or two? What could they do other than tell you to buckle down, stick closer to me, eh?” </p><p>Aziraphale continued the onslaught on his coat, his face drawn in thought. “Well, I suppose it would be expected. Can’t win them all, right?” Then, he gasped. “What of you, though? Won’t Hell be quite perturbed at your role in the whole…exploding bit?” </p><p>“Pssh…they like me down below.” He hissed at the mushroom, still impressive in its progression. “I’ve a reputation as a bit of a wild card. Most I’ll get is a stern scolding. That’s considerably more tolerable than <i>plucking.”</i> </p><p>Blue eyes met the snake’s in an unspoken agreement. “Plucking would be, rather unpleasant.” </p><p>“Right.” Crowley dared to touch one last time, running fingers down the now-frayed edge of the angel’s coat, fixing the loose threads in a quiet miracle. “Ring me when you’ve returned. We’ll have a nibble and catch up.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>……..</p>
</div>London’s Natural History Museum’s long narrow hallways consumed each of Crowley’s hurried steps like the stomach of a massive whale. It’s rather much how he remembered the hallways leading into Heaven. Long, straight, and disturbingly white. So much so that the dirt from one’s heels could be the beginnings of a holy battle with Heaven’s janitor.<p>Eccentric one he was, but Crowley supposed he would be as well if he carried the responsibility of such an impossible task. </p><p>This hallway, though, led only to the troublesome Angel who yet again needed the rescue efforts of one uncharacteristically overprotective demon. So Crowley, dressed in a short-sleeved white button-down and a vest that demanded tugging every few, adjusted his lovely cap and wore a pervasive frown to assert his authority. At least the attire complimented his glasses. </p><p>He heard Aziraphale’s pleas long before he reached the little office, tucked so discretely at the far end of the museum. </p><p>“I’m terribly sorry for my intrusion. I certainly did not mean to <i>steal</i> anything. I simply had to touch it…just to be certain. One cannot be certain to whom a sword belongs without touching it, you see?” </p><p>“Tell it to the Met when they arrive. Now, if you’ve nothing new to say then dear god please button it, you Southern pansy.” </p><p>Crowley decided that the guard would most certainly need God’s assistance if he so much as touched the angel. </p><p>The door swung open to reveal Aziraphale handcuffed to an antique chair and the guard staring up from a pile of paperwork at his tiny, wooden desk. The angel’s eyes widened and then his face collapsed into a grateful, choking smile. No time for such fondness, Crowley barreled inside and nodded kindly to the thoroughly impatient officer.</p><p>“Well it’s about bloody time! He could’ve nicked the entire display by now.” An adorably tiny set of keys hit Crowley’s chest as the man went back to his paperwork. “Go on and take him, then. I haven’t got all day.” </p><p>Crowley snorted. His lips curled upwards into a reptilian sneer while his hands tightened at his sides. Aziraphale shook his head repeatedly, eyes so wide and innocent that it only fueled the snake’s intent. Slowly, Crowley leaned down upon the desk, supported by his gangly arms, and waited for the officer to raise his head. Once the discomforted glare found him, Crowley removed his glasses in a torturous drag to reveal the snake eyes beneath. The officer coughed, gripped his throat, and pushed his little wheely chair back against the wall. </p><p>“Who…who are you?” He stammered. </p><p>Crowley snickered. “The name’s Crowley, Hell’s earthly representative. Satan sends his niceties. He can’t wait to meet <i>you.</i> He has sooo many plans for your arrival, starting with bevies in the lava pit.” The man choked, ripping at his tie. “Nighty night, then.” </p><p>The guard fell forward onto the desk in a snap, his face a puddle of jowls and saliva. </p><p>“Crowley! What have you done?” Aziraphale fought against the handcuff, carving into the chair’s chipping stain. “That was entirely unnecessary. I…I…” </p><p>The demon replaced his glasses with a devilish smirk, tossed the keys, and snapped his fingers, freeing the angel from the restraint and causing the handcuffs to fall to the pristine tile with a deafening clatter.</p><p>“Relax, Angel. He’s not dead, just having a bit of a nap.” The demon approached the former captive and observed his wrists from beneath his lenses, noting the faint bruising. “May well make it permanent, though.” </p><p>“Hush, I’m perfectly Tickety Boo.” The angel tugged his hands back and stared forlornly at the smirking demon. “Thank you, I should say. Hadn’t quite found a way out of this particular predicament. Now, must be going.” </p><p>Crowley followed behind the nervous angel out of the office and into a tunnel that smelled vaguely of bleach, understanding all too well their destination. A family passed, one tyke pointing up at Aziraphale, who was clothed as if he’d walked straight out of an Old English exhibit. Likely the angel’s idea of camouflage. </p><p>“Lovely, where to? Fancy a bit of a supper? After you touch your bloody sword, that is?”</p><p>Aziraphale stopped. His lips parted and released a long line of stuttered confusion. </p><p>“Well, I uh, I mean to say…” </p><p>Crowley stopped it with a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“You think you’ve found your sword and it’s inconveniently stuck behind a velvet rope, yes?” Crowley snapped and the population of the entire museum immediately froze. “Let’s get this over with, shall we? I’m famished.” </p><p>Aziraphale twiddled his fingers and swallowed. “Right, yes. Of course. Hurry along.” </p><p>They traveled shoulder to shoulder, skirting around visitors and staff as needed, and walked back in time through both world wars, a mock-up of Scotland Yard, and virtually trekked the River Thames. Crowley took a selfie at the Great Fire exhibit, along with a few candid shots of the impatient angel, and the pair eventually landed in Roman London where a sword rested comfortably within a thick wall of glass. </p><p>Crowley cocked his head. “Isn’t it meant to be flaming?” </p><p>Aziraphale approached the display with reverence, scanning the unmoving crowd before placing a careful palm on the clear surface. “Without divine touch, it’s likely lost its fire.”</p><p>A few more minutes passed, the angel’s eyes never leaving the weapon, and then Crowley stepped in with a gentle whisper. “Aziraphale, the time lapse won’t hold much longer.” </p><p>“Right. I’ll just go ahead and rid us of this barrier.” The angel opened the glass door, already made ajar by Crowley's advances, and then the sword met open air. His breath quickened when his arm reached, and his fingers ever so delicately wrapped around the beautifully carved handle. A few tense moments passed, Crowley suddenly on edge and ready for anything, and then, nothing. </p><p>No flame. No divine glow. Nothing. </p><p>Aziraphale frowned, let out a haggard exhale, and then simply melted in disappointment. </p><p>“It’s angelic, but it is not mine.” </p><p>Crowley closed the door on the exhibit with a snap and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s lower back.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Angel. I wish it had been the bloody thing.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, leaning back into the touch. </p><p>“Yes, would have been lovely to put that worry behind me.” The bystanders awoke as if no time had passed at all. They treaded circles around the demon and the angel. Aziraphale woke more slowly from his stupor but did so with a genuine smile. “Well then, whinging will only serve to ruin our evening. Where shall we dine, old friend?"</p><p>Crowley, hand still resting against his angel’s warmth, returned the smile and guided him towards the back exit, just in case. </p><p>“What about that new French restaurant you’ve been on about?” </p><p>“Oh, I did hope you would suggest it!”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>……..</p>
</div>That sword.<p>It always came back to that flaming sword. </p><p>Crowley watched from beside his beloved angel as the end of the world played out despite their useless attempts at heroism. The antichrist now held Aziraphale’s sword firmly in his grasp, the flames dancing with renewed energy, pointing it quite deliberately at Death’s pulsing bones. Death of course, had no life to take and suffered nothing at the child’s will. </p><p>Aziraphale, though, agonized.</p><p>He lost all his color at its reappearance. Crowley’d been certain that the angel would faint right there, all damsel-like. Decades, centuries haunted by a bloody sword consumed in flame all came to an end in front of Heaven, Hell, and everyone in-between. </p><p>It couldn’t have gone much worse. </p><p>Then the ground shook, forming a Satan-shaped crevice, and proved Crowley a liar. Aziraphale gave the demon a look that implored <i>fix it.</i> He knew that expression well, dreamed of it some nights when he imagined a world where Aziraphale did not have to live in constant fear. Where they could exist happily together without the meddling of the Big Bad and the Big Good, where Crowley could finally put his dukes down and concentrate on loving instead of protecting. </p><p>One glance at Aziraphale’s desperation, though, told him this was not that world. </p><p>His promise of centuries ago reached full maturity in a literal moment of truth. </p><p><i>Protect this angel with your life.</i> </p><p>“Right, then.” </p><p>So, he dropped to his knees in front of the boy and did the thing that no self-respecting demon would ever do. Beneath the halo of flames and metal, he begged.</p><p>“Your father is coming and he’s angry at you, and us, and everyone on this planet. He wants war, famine, violence, and death. None of us will survive, not your family or friends, unless you change it. Please, do whatever you must to change it. This world is far from bloody perfect but, it deserves another chance." His voice cracked at the next bit, his eyes dragging towards the trembling angel behind. "We all deserve another chance to be with those we love, don’t we?” </p><p>Then came a thunderous crash. Dirt, mud, and rock flew about, and a monstrous form rose into the sky and blotted out the sun, placing all of them in His menacing shadow. Crowley stood and immediately took his position in front of the angel, for all the good it’d do, and waited with his fists raised.</p><p>If anything swung their way, he’d happily take the brunt. </p><p>Then Adam spoke, and Satan took a knee. </p><p>“You are nothing, just a figment of our imaginations, a scary story that never comes true. You’re no more a threat then Dog and you cannot punish us as long as we love each other. You’re going to go back into your hole now and leave us all alone so that we can focus on fixing our world.”  </p><p>Satan roared behind gritted teeth, bowed, and dissolved into a pile of ash that sunk deep into the ground. Beelzebub screamed and disappeared into the bowels of the earth. Something barbed ripped from within Crowley’s chest. He dropped to his knees and vomited a spool of black ribbon. It immediately turned to dust and followed Satan down into the abyss. Aziraphale held him the whole time, patiently combing a hand through his hair and murmuring sweet reassurances. The demon focused on his angel’s voice as his body ached, creaked, and cramped in ways he’d never experienced. When it finally passed, he looked up into those unearthly blue orbs and filled his lungs with the freshest air he’d ever breathed. </p><p>Then, Adam turned to the sky.</p><p>“You! You are going to leave my friends alone. All of them. We’re not your puppets and we’re all free as of now.”  </p><p>At once, Gabriel, yawping a panicked celestial melody, shot up to the sky in the same elevator of light that took him down. Crowley laughed at the ghastly look on the bastard’s face. Then Aziraphale collapsed with a mighty yelp. Crowley crawled to his side, a protective growl surfacing from his throat as pain etched itself upon that beautiful face. He rubbed a gentle hand over Aziraphale’s arching back as he clutched his rising chest and mewled. </p><p>“Aziraphale? Please, love.” </p><p>The sweaty, tense, frightened being peered up from the pavement and whispered a plea. </p><p>“Crowley.”</p><p>Then, something snapped. The angel gasped, spread a pair of limp wings, and bolted directly up into Crowley’s waiting arms, knocking the glasses from the demon's face. He left upon the pavement a shadow of his previous self, wings and all, surrounded by a golden radiance. Aziraphale dipped against Crowley’s shoulder, exhausted and breathless. Then, the shadow took flight and disappeared into the retreating clouds, taking his discarded wings along.  </p><p>“Angel?” Aziraphale fell against Crowley’s chest, panting but smiling. </p><p>“Crowley, your eyes." He swiped a careful finger over the man's cheek. "They're human.<i>We’re human.</i> Heaven and Hell don’t control us any longer.” </p><p>At that, the sword burned out and fell from Adam’s hands a benign piece of charred metal. </p><p>“Of course, you’re human.” The boy chimed in with a scrunch of his nose. “Mum says only humans can fall in love.” </p><p>Aziraphale scoffed, chewing the smile from his lips. Crowley sputtered, but kept the other man close. The kids wandered off, being kids of the human sort, leaving the men to ponder. </p><p>“Right then Angel, suppose we’re in love.” </p><p>Warm eyes the color of the fresh sky met his with overwhelming emotion and <i>tears.</i>

</p><p>“If he says so, it is to be.” </p><p>Of course, the look exchanged told them that it didn’t take an antichrist to make their mutual feelings a reality. </p><p>Crowley kissed Aziraphale's forehead and Aziraphale nuzzled against his neck, filling his blooming, human soul with a warmth so immense and ineffable that he could not bear to go another day without. When their ordinary, human orbs cracked again, when the demon and angel met for the second time, they formed an ending and a beginning in one.</p><p>Their hearts finally free to love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>...So I started writing some hurt/comfort fiction and it grew a plot. If you happen to make it this far, then I appreciate any feedback! </p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: The title comes from Odysseus' Troy. I also don't own Good Omens or the angels. The plot somewhat follows the show, with some tweaks throughout to accomodate this story.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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